


Bang

by marmolita



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, minorly suggested prompto/ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: Just Prompto and his gun.





	Bang

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon on the kinkmeme who wanted Prompto solo gunplay. Also because goddamn the thought of Prompto rubbing up against his gun drives me crazy. Disclaimer: I know fuck all about guns, and my friend who does advises me that you should not actually lick a gun and that gun cleaners are toxic, so like, don't try this at home, folks.
> 
> WARNINGS: uh, gunplay. Which includes like, danger kink. There's one line that could be interpreted as suicidal ideation but was not intended that way.

Prompto sometimes loses track of time when he's cleaning his guns. He's almost done, finishing up with his handgun, when he realizes that he's alone in the hotel room. The guns are laid out around him on the bed as he pauses to check his phone; sure enough, there's a text from Noctis letting him know that he and the guys have gone to check out the area. Chances are they told him that when they left, but Noct knows him well enough to know he probably wasn't listening.

So he's alone in the room, sliding a brush into the barrel of his handgun, and the guys won't be back for at least an hour. Privacy is hard to come by on a road trip with three other guys; Prompto would be a fool not to take advantage of it. He watches the brush disappear into the barrel, and thinks about sex. To be fair, guns frequently make him think about sex. It's at least partially because he knows he's competent with them -- more than competent, and being good at something gives him a rush of more than just pride. And yeah, maybe it's a little bit because he sometimes likes to curl his fingers around the barrel and stroke it like it's his dick. Or someone else's dick, it doesn't really matter.

Prompto pauses in his cleaning process and leans back against the pillows. He keeps the gun in his hand, setting the brush down, and traces his fingertips lightly over the handle. It's warm from his touch, and he lets himself relax into the sensation, running his fingers over the trigger and up onto the barrel. He licks his lips, then picks up the gun and draws it to his mouth. The metal is smooth on his lips as he moves them across the side of the barrel, opening his mouth and tracing the same path with his tongue. He wonders briefly what the guys would think if they saw him now, mouthing wantonly at the barrel of his handgun. Gladio would laugh, Noctis would blush, and Ignis-- Well, now that he thinks about it, Ignis might be into it.

His dick swells in his pants as he draws the tip of the gun down over his jaw slowly, catching and pulling his lower lip on the way. It's hard and unyielding as it traces the line of his neck, and even though he knows it's not loaded, Prompto's heart still races at having a gun point blank against his carotid artery. By the time he's slid the gun down his chest, his erection is pushing uncomfortably at his fly, and he's breathing hard. Taking a deep breath, he moves the gun lower, rubbing it against the bulge in his pants.

There's nobody around, so Prompto lets himself be noisy, moaning low in his throat as the hard metal presses against his most sensitive flesh. He flips the gun over so the barrel is pointing up toward his face, the handle down by his balls, and rolls his hips into the touch, sparks flying up his spine at the contact. Again, and again, and his pants are too tight and it kind of _hurts_ but Prompto doesn't care because it feels so good, like he's grinding up against someone else's dick only a million times better. Someone else's dick couldn't kill him the way his gun could.

Prompto leans his head back and closes his eyes, rucking up his shirt and opening his pants with his other hand, finally freeing his aching cock. He starts stroking himself fast and rough, turning the gun again to press the tip against his balls through his pants. It's possibly even more of a rush than having the gun on his neck was, or in his mouth. Heat coils in his belly as he imagines someone else holding the gun to him, maybe-- maybe Ignis, who would hold the gun there firmly and threaten him in that too-calm voice that if he didn't put on a good show he'd get his balls blown off. The idea shoots another wave of pleasure through him, and it's not long before he's getting noisier, embarrassing whimpers coming from the back of his throat.

He twists his hand at the same time that he shoves the barrel hard into his tightening balls, eyes squeezing shut at the combination of pain and pleasure as he gasps out, "Fuck, oh fuck, _fuck_ \--!" His climax rolls over him like a wave, crashing through him from his toes curling into the sheets to the point of the gun on his balls to the place where his head presses into the pillows as his back arches.

Breathing hard, Prompto slowly backs off the pressure of the gun and slumps into the pillows. He grabs some tissues from the bedside table to wipe up the mess, catches his breath, then picks up his brush and starts over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [misswonderheart](http://misswonderheart.tumblr.com) as always for giving me Ideas that make my fic better, and to [introductory](http://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory) for answering random-ass questions about guns.


End file.
